


Resonance

by unfortunate17



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Co-Parenting, Idiots in Love, M/M, pure unabashed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: “Do you miss me as well?” Luke asks, emboldened. “When I’m away?” His fingers are still curled near Din’s neck and his voice is breathless, like Din has thinned the very air in his lungs.Din swallows. “Don’t forget,” he says roughly, in lieu of response. “It’s your turn to visit next week.”------Or, Din arrives at Ahch-To from Mandalore for his weekly visit.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 27
Kudos: 485





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I'm actively avoiding To Eden. I promise the last chapter will be out very shortly, I have about 2/3rds of it written but I've fallen into I-will-never-be-satisfied trap.
> 
> In the mean time, please enjoy some short and sweet DinLuke because I can't get it out of my brain.

Din stands at the edge of the Jedi Temple, gaze turned upwards in what he would never admit to be awe. It’s a large thing, dark spirals of rock hardened durasteel reaching for the pale, ever darkening skies of Ahch-To. The only sound is that of the roaring waves scraping away at the edges of their piece of home in the galaxy.

Luke clears his throat. His posture is lax as he leans against the unfamiliar, large, open doors of the temple. His saber is strapped snugly to his side, blade sheathed.

Din has never seen a weapon like the one Luke wields. Even his darksaber pales in comparison to the bright brilliance of Luke’s green blade. Sometimes, _foolishly,_ he wants to touch. To know what such a weapon would feel like in his own hands. But then, he remembers what Luke had told him on his first visit. That a Jedi’s lightsaber was akin to Mandalorian armor. Sacred.

“What do you think?” Luke gestures to the new set of doors. “I installed them last week after I got back from Mandalore.”

There’s a nervousness to him that Din doesn’t understand.

“They’re nice.” The helmet muffles his voice a little. Just enough to keep hidden. “But I thought you weren’t supposed to make changes.”

Luke laughs. He pushes himself upright, gestures Din to follow. The sound of his happiness echoes along the wide, vast halls. The air is gentler here than outdoors, calm. If he strains hard enough, Din can hear a woman humming in the background, the laughter of children.

“I’m Grandmaster of the Jedi Order,” Luke’s eyes meet his briefly. He looks amused. “I can do whatever I want.”

Din thinks about what that means. The vows that Luke breaks by allowing a Mandalorian into a Jedi Temple. Only the other Jedi are supposed to be aware of Ahch-To, and yet here Din stands, enveloped in the benevolent presence that is Luke Skywalker.

“Grogu thinks of you often,” Luke continues. “He misses you while you’re gone.”

They fall into step beside each other, making their way almost unconsciously to the left wing of the temple where the living quarters are located. Din shouldn’t be allowed to know of the existence of the Jedi Temple, let alone have a room – a _bed_ – to call his own.

The thought of his dear child makes his heart drum. “He shouldn’t,” Din clears his throat. “Miss me, I mean. He shouldn’t miss me. I thought he was supposed to be learning to let go of his attachments.”

Luke hums, distant and thoughtful. His footsteps are quiet, lithe, in comparison to Din’s own thudding, only made louder by the weight of his armor. Luke doesn’t speak again, so Din mirrors his silence.

They pass a large room filled with winding plants and pools of water, an airy chamber lined with training droids, a door that simply opens to the heavens of Ahch-To –

He knows they’re getting close now.

Din could make the walk from the front of the temple to his quarters with his eyes closed and helmet on backwards. And yet, Luke insists on meeting him at the doors each time, leading him home with a gentle brush of fingers against Din’s leather clad palm.

They’re silent until they reach their destination. Once arriving, Luke presses Din’s combination into the keypad and the door to the small, bare quarters that Din knows Luke has reserved for him slides open with a hiss.

Inside is a simple bedroll and a spare Mandelorian helmet made of durasteel that Luke had crafted for him a few months prior. Din still remembers the afternoon it was gifted, the honeyed sunlight turning Luke’s hair into gold spun silk, eyes as bright as the lightsaber he held.

Luke takes a step into his quarters and his eyes flit over his shoulder to meet Din’s own gaze. “I miss you as well, you know. When you’re away.”

Din almost swallows his tongue. “You shouldn’t.”

This time, Luke laughs. “I shouldn’t,” he agrees, good-naturedly, “but I do.”

There’s a moment of silence because Din has never been good with words. At least not when it really, truly mattered.

Luke gestures him forward. The absurdity of being invited into his own quarters is not lost on Din in the slightest. Nonetheless, he enters, takes his time pulling off his boots by the door, dimly feeling it hiss shut behind him. When he straightens, Luke is far closer to him than Din had calculated.

His fingers are exceedingly gentle where they brush along Din’s shoulders.

Beskar is no match for the force of Luke Skywalker’s touch.

“I – ,” Din swallows, searching for words that he simply cannot find. Not in Basic at least. Perhaps if he thought hard enough, he would find them in Mando’a.

He resolves to find them. For Luke.

But Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He only smiles, the brightness of his presence flooding the room, his gentleness enough to knock Din clean on his back. He twists to pull off his cloak, lets the garment float to the ground behind him without so much as a glance.

And he’s – he’s _slight_.

There’s a gentleness to the curve of Luke’s shoulders, strength in the tendons of his fingers. He’s the greatest warrior in the history of the galaxy, vanquisher of evil, Master of the Jedi Order. He is the force embodied, light pouring from every crevice, a fierce swordsman, and an even fiercer protector.

Din would give his life for him.

The realizing is humbling, yet nothing new.

Luke must sense something in him because he draws even closer, cool hands brushing along the heated skin of Din’s neck. “You must be tired,” he murmurs. “You should rest. The little womp rat will still be here in the morning.”

Din forces himself to nod, eyes still caught on the luminous being before him. He lifts his hands, brings them upwards, and covers Luke’s fingers with his own. His knuckles are pressed against the base of his helmet now, and it would be so easy, so exceedingly simple to – but. It’s not the right time. Perhaps it will be someday.

Din resolves to find the time. For Luke.

His heart drums as he moves his hands to Luke instead. The leather of his gloves covers only his palms, fingers blessedly bare as he fascinatedly moves to pull at a single lock of golden hair. 

Luke makes a strangled noise and Din drops his hand away immediately. He’s infinitely thankful for his helmet sometimes, and this is most certainly one of those times.

“Do you miss me as well?” Luke asks, emboldened. “When I’m away?” His fingers are still curled near Din’s neck and his voice is breathless, like Din has thinned the very air in his lungs.

Din swallows. “Don’t forget,” he says roughly, in lieu of response. “It’s your turn to visit next week.”

A smile simmers across Luke’s face. “How could I forget?” he grins. “Leia and Han probably can’t wait until I’m gone again. Besides, Grogu loves to fly.”

“He’s too young to fly.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke looks at him fondly and it’s like the sun beaming across a desolate world. How the very earth of Ahch-To doesn’t tremble under the force of such a look, Din will never understand. “I told him his father said no.”

“Good,” Din finds himself smiling beneath his Beskar despite himself. “Because I told him his dad said no.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at:https://unfortunate17.tumblr.com if you'd like to talk about the Mandalorian, Star Wars, or just yell at me in general ❤️


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